Potter's Potty Yuletide Love
by georginacastleorpington
Summary: Trapped in the Slytherin Changing Room on a mission with nothing but an invisibility cloak for company, the most terrible thing happens to Rose Weasley. She gets trapped under mistletoe with HIM. Scorpius Malfoy. RW&SM One-Shot


**This was written in a fit of boredom. Forgive me for the cliche, but I just had a burning desire to write a story with this sort of plotline. **

**Drop me a review to let me know what you think :)**

**Gco**

* * *

What is officially the worst place in the world that my _bloody_ cousin, aka. The Head Boy could have put some of his lame-arse enchanted mistletoe?

The toilets?

Dear no, it gets worse than that.

The Great Hall...right by the door where everyone in the school can see when you get cornered by that creepy fourth year with the congenital saliva problem?

Well, that's one of the worst. I know from experience. Trust me on this one.

Oh no. The worst place that Albus Potty-Potter put this enchanted mistletoe, which for the record, in case you aren't familiar with its work, prevents you from walking out of a two foot radius of it without snogging the person you're trapped in there with, was in the Slytherin changing room.

I have to admit, it was a rather intelligent idea, if badly thought out.

I mean, a couple of Slytherins having a bit of man-on-man action when they have this aura of being complete Alpha-males is definitely giggle-worthy. The fact that it is in a location where no one can see this giggle-worthy event is a slight flaw, and an even bigger flaw is that it doesn't even work on same-sex pairings.

So don't even think about sneaking in there, Lorcan Scamander. It would be pointless.

The _biggest _flaw in this generally flawed plan was fairly simple, and can be summed up in four words.

Albus. Is. An. Idiot.

You see, the stupid prat also had another cunning plan that probably came to him whilst he was sitting on the toilet or something, it is _that _stupid. It was that as Captain of the Quidditch team he was going to order the team to spy. On the Slytherins.

Can you see where this is going?

So, Albus bounded along to Quidditch practice, a book of concealment charms in tow, with his brilliant plan. Of course, the entire team told him this is a brilliant plan (except for myself of course). But as cousin of Head Boy/Captain of Quidditch team I was obliged to help the plundering fool in his plight.

Miserably, I performed concealment charms on all the chasers and waved them off as they dashed off to sneak into the Slytherin common room. I performed concealment charms on the beaters and waved them off as one of them heads to the library and the other to the hall. And finally I performed a concealment charm on Albus himself, who being the darling cousin he is, had volunteered to lend me the invisibility cloak.

Albus and I stood there, freezing cold and invisible, on the Quidditch pitch waiting for practice to start. Then Albus voiced his plan of action. He was going to go hide in the stands, and watch the Slytherins practice to pick up sneaky techniques. I informed him that hiding was unnecessary as he was invisible. He attempted to hit me over the head but failed as, of course, I was invisible and could therefore easily dodge his blow which happened to be three feet to the left of its target.

Then came the order I was unconsciously dreading, without knowing what it was going to be.

"You can go hide in the Slytherin changing rooms, in case they discuss plans beforehand."

I grumbled. "Why do _I_ have to go?"

"You have the best memory. I'd forget what they had said after ten minutes."

Thus, five minutes later I had alohamora'd myself into the Slytherin changing rooms and was hiding behind a locker, cursing the day Albus was born.

No one turned up.

For a good hour.

Apparently the Slytherins came from the castle already dressed in their Quidditch gear and returned in their dirty Quidditch gear, and happily I thanked Merlin. But _just_ as I was doing my victory dance around the room, the door swung open violently.

I couldn't have run to the corner of the room without making a pretty obvious racket, so I was trapped, standing invisible in the middle of the changing room, as around me seven Quidditch players (all male) began to strip.

If I had been Lily at this point, by the way, I would have screamed and licked their abs or something equally disgusting. However, I am not Lily and so merely stood there growing steadily redder. Not that they could see this, but I could certainly feel it in my face.

It's not as if this bunch of total morons was in any way attractive to me at all.

Come on, Malfoy and his cronies? Saliva boy who cornered me under the mistletoe was a darn-sight better looking than this bunch.

I carefully snuck to the corner of the room while they were in the shower and hid back behind the lockers again.

Then as they began to return from the showers, I snapped my eyes shut and held them tightly closed. For...err...safety you know.

Not because I'm worried about finding them attractive.

They're not.

Just saying.

Perched in my little spot behind the lockers, my ears perked up as they began to talk. Thinking it would be valuable information that I could relay to Albus despite him putting me through this torment I listened carefully.

"That was a pretty good practice, lads, " a voice that could only have been Malfoy's nasty sniping tone piped up. "We might actually stand a chance up against Potter and his band of misfits on Saturday."

He sounded rather venomous. Looks like someone is resentful of our marvellous game-play. Albus will certainly like to hear about this.

"Let's face it, Scor. We're going to lose. All we can try is not to lose as badly as last time." That sounded like Zabini - he has a much deeper voice than the rest of them. Not a creepy-deep voice, but one of those deeper more pleasant voices.

He is one of the nicer ones out of them, after all.

"Maybe," a grating whine piped up. Goyle. Definately. "We'd win if you didn't keep getting distracted by their seeker."

Ha! Malfoy gets distracted! What a moron. Everyone knows you can't get distracted by members of the other team in a Quidditch mat- Hold on. I am the seeker!

Why the hell is Malfoy getting distracted by me?

Oh shit. He's planning what sort of unforgivables he's going to use on me. I bet he sits there on his broom floating above the game, pretending to be searching for the snitch when in reality he is dreaming of jelly-legs jinxing me!

"I don't get distracted by anyone, least of all..._Weasley_."

See! He said my name with such _venom_! I'm going to have to wear this invisibility cloak permanently to escape his wrath.

Actually, who am I kidding, I could so beat him a duel. I would totally batter him with my skilled wand-work and well placed bat-bogey hex.

"Derek's right," a slightly more high-pitched voice said. I'm guessing Derek is Goyle. My, my it is weird hearing their first names. "Maybe we should sabotage her so she can't play. We might stand a chance of our seeker catching the snitch that way."

"Ten house points from Slytherin," Malfoy grunted, a cracked my eyes open a touch to see him grumpily throwing his locker door open, with only a towel around his waist.

Wow.

He's...he's...he...abs?

Close eyes. Now.

The safety of the blackness of the back of my eyelids greeted me.

"Scor! What is it with you and taking house points of people in your _own_ house!" Zabini said, and judging by the increase of general background chatter, this conversation was just between the two of them.

"He disrespected me! No one disrespects a Malfoy!"

"He's a fourth year, mate. He's just poking fun. Besides, if you're not careful people might think you actually _are_ distracted by a Weasley, and think what would happen then."

It was quite awkward having to overhear this conversation, I can tell you.

But rather flattering at the same time. Who knew old Malfoy-pants thought I was a bit pretty? This would be perfect blackmail material! Not that I would ever be able to admit that I'd spent an entire Tuesday evening hiding in the Slytherin changing rooms.

But whatever. I'll think of some way to use it.

Malfoy, getting steadily more flustered, then addressed the whole room. "Listen, I am not distracted by Weasley. The only reason they beat us is because they just play better than us on the day, but we are better than them, so we _will _win this time. Now, head back to the castle. And remember, we have practice same time tomorrow."

There was the sound of shuffling, picking up bags and the thunk of the door as it opened and closed several times. I decided that it was now safe to open my eyes.

Then decided it was no longer safe. Malfoy was still not dressed. Why wasn't he dressed? Urgh. What an annoying little git.

He had a very toned back. Wow. It was definitely not bad looking at all.

Not in the least bit spotty.

My heart thumped painfully in my chest. Oh gods. I wasn't _honestly_ attracted to Malfoy was I? I better not be.

It would make it morally unacceptable for me to tease Malfoy about finding me 'distracting' if I found him so distracting that I had completely missed the bit where it became apparent that it was only myself and a topless Malfoy left in the Slytherin changing room.

Malfoy sighed deeply, and bent down to pick up the t-shirt he dropped on the ground.

Bingo. It was my time to move. So I shuffled quietly over to the door, edging past Malfoy who by the way was changing and I shall be honest when I say it was slightly distracting from the whol be-quiet thing. I nearly collided with a broom and was about to reach the door when I stopped dead in my tracks.

And that is where I am now. Standing in the Slytherin changing room, and do you know what, I can't move forward. That's right. It's almost as if there is an invisible brick wall preventing me from moving any further forward.

I look up, and there it is. The absolute bane of my life. Albus' enchanted mistletoe. And frankly, this is most _definitely _the worst place that he decided to put his stupid mistletoe, because now guess who I'm stuck under it with.

Oh yes. Bloody Malfoy. And to make matters worse, he doesn't even know that he's stuck. Yet.

Malfoy pulls his top on, and tries to take a step to the right. His nose bangs into the invisible wall and he swears, loudly.

"What the hell?" he exclaims, apparently having no qualms with talking to himself. Then he turns around and looks up. "Mistletoe?"

He peers up at it for a good three minutes before swearing again. "I've got caught under mistletoe with _myself_? That bloody knob, Potter. He's gone and bloody screwed up the charm. Now I've got to snog _myself_."

Hee hee.

Malfoy thinks he has to snog himself.

Hee hee!

Malfoy lifts his hand to his face, eyeing it in disgust, before kissing it swiftly. He tries to move to the right again. And fails.

I am too busy giggling that I don't notice him turn around, pick up a quaffle and turn to throw it at the door in anger.

One problem, I am standing in the way of the door. And as stealthy and subtle as I am, even I cannot be completely silent when someone throws a flaming quaffle at me with all the power they have in their arm.

"OWWWW!" I screech loudly.

Before realised that I have screeched. I clamp a hand quickly over my mouth but it's too late. Malfoy has dived forward and rugby-tackled me to the ground, potentially breaking my entire supply of ribs in the process.

"Aha!" He grasps a fistful of the invisibility cloak and rips it off, a look of triumph on his face. "WEASLEY?"

I say nothing for a second before shouting back, at an equal pitch. "MALFOY? Where the hell did you come from?"

Malfoy jumps up and tries to scramble backwards. "What the _hell_ are you doing in the Slytherin changing rooms, you ginger weirdo?"

Deciding, that seeing as Malfoy is brandishing his wand at me it was probably worth telling the truth, I smile reluctantly. "I was spying on you and slimy little mates."

"Potter put you up to this didn't he?"

"He may have done. Why do you ask?"  
Malfoy folds him arms, looking very cross indeed. "Why has the stupid knobhead gone and put his enchanted mistletoe in here if he _knew_ you would be coming in here? Is he really that stupid?"

"Yes, he is." This being the first time I have ever agreed with anything Malfoy has ever said, he eyes me in confusion. "By the way, nice one taking points off your own house members. No wonder Hufflepuff are in the lead at the moment." I half-smirk, half-grin.

Malfoy claps a hand to his head. "_That_ was an automatic reaction."

"To what?"

"Mention of your name. For example. Rose Weasley." He crinkles his nose in disgust. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

I kick him sharply in the shin. "I believe that constitutes as abusing your power."

"I can't help it if just thinking of your name makes me want to take house points from people. It must be a genetically pre-programmed reaction."

I kick him in the shin again, this time much much harder.

"OW! Twenty points from Gryffindor." He pokes me in the stomach. "You might want to be careful Weasley, you're going to be in negative figures if you keep causing my physical pain."

"Why? I'm not breaking any rules, it's legally acceptable to punish idiots."

He grins smarmily. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for being a smart-arse. Bet you wish you were a prefect now, don't you?"

"No. I might have got stuck doing rounds with _you_." I fold my arms, trying to edge backwards, but forgetting that of course I was trapped under this stupid mistletoe.

He smirks arrogantly. "Nothing wrong with that. It's me I'd be more worried about. You might bore me to death with one of your dull stories about how you solved an Arithmancy puzzle the other day."

I suppose he is referring to the tale I had been telling Albus earlier that day in Potions. I didn't know he'd been listening in, the nosy little git.

"It was a thrilling tale, _actually_."

"It was deathly boring, _actually_."

I sniff primly and fold my arms. "Listen, can we just get this over with so I can get away from you and your nasty pompous twit germs."

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

I punch him in the arm. "For what?" I declare incredulously.

"And another ten. Is this really the way you want to be remembered, Weasley? As the girl who lost Gryffindor about 600 hundred house points."

When I don't answer he raises an eyebrow.

"I didn't think so. Now, we're going to do this my way, and when we're free we are going to disappear off and pretend this never happened, alright?"

I nod slowly. "But just so you know, if your tongue goes anywhere within the vicinity of my mouth I _will_ castrate you. Happily."

"I know you want to go down there," he looks downwards with a teasing smirk. Urgh. What a perverted smarmy cretin. "But I really haven't the time...or the energy. So let's keep it strictly upper body alright? And by the way another ten from Gryff, for threatening a prefect."

"How were you _ever_ even _made_ a prefect?" I gasp in irritation. "And it's Gryff_indor_ not Gryff. Creep."

"Simple. I was charming, handsome and persuasive. And I know how you pronounce it, thank you very much. Honestly, of all the people I had to be stuck under here with it just _had_ to be you didn't it. The only person in the world who could be faced with the kissing a guy she has publicly hated for her entire life and yet still finds it within her to correct his grammar!"

"Actually, you could say _that __she has publicly hated._ Sometimes it's better to include the 'that' becau-"

I suppose I didn't blame him for kissing me at that point, frankly I imagine my grammar correcting was driving him mad, what with his less than capable mind struggling to keep up with my intellectual ramblings.

At first, his lips merely touch mine briefly, but then when I think he was about to move away, they land back on mine again. We stand there, locked, and the fact that the mistletoe would have released up after that first peck hasn't occurred to either of us, frankly.

My thinking appears to vanish. No longer am I capable of solving that complex Arithmancy equation that I was faced with when doing my homework earlier on. In fact if you ask me my name at this point I wouldn't know.

Without realising what I'm doing, my hands run themselves through his hair and rest linked around his shoulders pulling him more closely towards me, and he twists his arms around my waist, before deepening the kiss.

This. Is. Amazing.

And then... BANG!

"Malfoy! Look who I caught wandering around the our dorm! The bloody Gryffs have been sneaking around the Slytherin common room trying to find out our game tactics and some – "

We split apart.

"Scor?" Zabini mutters, his eyes wide in shock. "_Weasley_? Did I MISS something?"

I look up and see Zabini holding my cousin, Albus, by the ear. Albus' mouth is wide open. "R-r-r-r-rose?" He stutters. "Am I asleep? Am I in a nightmare? Someone punch me to check!"

Zabini grins. "Gladly." DOOF.

"OWWW!" Albus rubs his arms with a pout. "You didn't have to hit me that hard!" Zabini drops Albus, letting go of his ear, and I jump away from Malfoy to Albus' side, and Zabini moves towards Malfoy's side.

I yank Albus up from the ground and nudge him towards the door. "This doesn't change anything." I tell Malfoy dramatically, waving a hand around the room, attempting to indicate towards what had happened not minutes before in here.

"Of course not."

"I'm still going to beat you at Quidditch on Saturday."

"Of course you are."

"I'm still going to tell the entire Potions class about my Arithmancy problems."  
"You do that."

"And I'm still going to distract you on the Quidditch pitch."

Malfoy groans, as Zabini looks thoroughly confused. "You heard that?"

* * *

"AND GRYFFINDOR HAVE THE SNITCH! THEY WIN 380-40!"

I land on the ground, the snitch firmly clasped in one hand. Malfoy lands on the ground next to me, looking properly gutted that he I beat him to the snitch. For the fifteenth time.

"Embarrassed, Malfoy?" I grin over at him, as the rest of the team high fives in the air, heading down to land.

Malfoy's disappointed face seem to slide off his face, as an expression appears that is cross between Albus' plotting face (not a good sign) and McGonagalls detention face (another not so good sign).

"Not as embarrassed as you're about to be."

"What drugs are you on, you weirdo? I'm not embarrassed! I just won the Quidditch cup for my team!"

With the eyes of the entire stadium on us in the freezing December air, Malfoy steps forward, his broom in hand, and before I can even make a run for it, or jump on my broom and fly to Neverland or somewhere equally far away and inaccessible, he is standing about an inch in front of me.

"Errr..." I say. "Do you mind. I have celebrations to be getting to."

He drops his broom on the ground.

"Everyone's watching," I say through gritted teeth, glancing round to either side.

"Precisely."

He cups his hands around my face and kisses me. Again. Though, given that his kisses tend to render me incapable of all coherent thought, the idea of being embarrassed never even crossed my mind. So technically I win.

He pulls back, just as the Gryffindor Quidditch team lands next to us cheering. "WEASLEY AND MALFOY SITTING IN A TREE..."

I always hated that song.

"By the way, you can have those seventy house points I took off back," he smiles.


End file.
